


A Nice Time

by sumhowe_sailing



Series: rafflesweek2018 [5]
Category: Raffles - E. W. Hornung
Genre: M/M, Mostly Fluff, a bit of angst, as is canon, bisexual Raffles, nonbinary Bunny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-31 00:40:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13963593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumhowe_sailing/pseuds/sumhowe_sailing
Summary: For the prompt "A Costume Piece".~~Set right after "The Rest Cure"~~





	A Nice Time

It was in the days following our misadventure on Campden Hill that I began to notice Raffles eyeing me rather oddly. I thought perhaps it was another silent rebuke for not trusting him over the matter with Colonel Crutchely—but there was no rebuke in it. As I grew more familiar with the glance—and I had plenty of opportunities to do so—I began to feel it was composed more of intrigue and curiosity than indignation and criticism.

I dared not question him about it; yet in the end, I didn’t need to. The matter came to a head on a fine evening not long after Raffles’ official return to London. I had received a note from him, bidding me come to the Albany that evening. When I arrived, he was nowhere to be seen, so I waited. I’d only been there a quarter of an hour when Raffles burst into the room triumphantly, an enormous package tucked beneath one arm.

“Bunny, old chap, there you are!”

“Raffles, what on earth has gotten into you?”

“Never mind that now, Bunny, here, take this.” So saying, he thrust the package eagerly into my lap. I stared at it, then back at him, before he impatiently commanded me to open it. No sooner had I made a decent tear in the brown paper than a fine muslin sleeve slid out.

“Raffles, what is this?” I asked coldly. He had only commented once on my choice of costume in the Colonel’s house, and I had naively hoped that would be the end of it. I was, evidently, mistaken.

“A dress, dear Bunny, what on earth else?”

“This isn’t funny, Raffles.”

“Dear chap, it’s not meant to be!” The laughter in his voice gave him away. It certainly explained his good mood. What better way to end his summer than with a right laugh at his ridiculous friend. I couldn’t bare it. I thrust the package back at him and stood to leave. He caught me by the arm, all traces of laughter suddenly gone as he looked into my face.

“Bunny, I am quite serious. It wasn’t meant for a joke, I swear.”

“What else could you have meant it for?” I spat back.

“To give you a nice time,” he replied, raising an eyebrow.

“A nice—what?” His response was so unexpected I was half-way through answering before I properly heard it.

“A nice time, Bunny. You make such a beautiful lady—no, don’t blush, it’s the truth—and I thought perhaps you’d like to be treated as such for an evening?”

“I—I don’t understand.”

“Bunny, tell me, when you donned Mrs. Crutchely’s clothes, was it a natural skill that found your toilet so complete, or is it something that you’ve practiced?”

“I don’t have to answer that!”

“No, you don’t. If it really upsets you so much, we can forget all about this. But Bunny, believe me, if that sort of costume appeals to you, I would be honored if you would allow me to escort the ravishing Miss Manders to the opera this evening.”

I was speechless. He seemed so genuine—so sincere. Without a trace of judgement regarding my little habit, he’d just said one of the kindest things he’d ever said to me. And now he came closer, took my hand in both of his and looked imploringly at me. I truly believed he wanted this as much as I did.

“She’ll need a different name, you know,” I managed to say at last.

 

I regretted agreeing to this mad venture almost as soon as we’d stepped outside. Raffles had thought of everything—from the gloves to the lip paint to a dainty silver necklace that complemented the cut of the gown perfectly. And I had spent so long perfecting my disguise that I had given Raffles reason to note that we might miss the first act. But he did not say it to rush me—he was more kind and patient than I’d ever known him. There was not a hair, no, not the smallest detail, out of place. Yet all the same I was sure any moment someone would see through me and we would find ourselves in a situation which even Raffles would be unable to talk us out of. I was relieved to climb into the hansom cab and gain privacy until we reached the theater. Raffles put his arm around me, winked at me roguishly, whispering “Let London make of _that_ what they will.”

He was right; we were indeed late to the performance. I found I didn’t mind. Nearly everyone else was settled into their places, already watching the show. There was no stray acquaintance to stop us, no one to scrutinize us as they waited for the entertainment. The closest anyone came to talking with us when we arrived was demanding that we hush as we passed them by. Once we took our seats, Raffles took my hand again and did not relinquish it until the final curtain fell. There was some little gossiping and vacant chatting as the crowds dispersed, but no one looked twice at me. Everyone who approached us was so enraptured by Raffles (and rightfully so!) that they hardly spared a glance for the lady with him. In the cab ride back to the Albany, I sat as close to him as I could and leaned my head upon his shoulder: a silent thank-you for the unspeakable kindness he’d shown me that evening. I smiled as I felt him press a kiss to my hair.

We rode in silence for a long while before he spoke.

“Darling?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“Should you like to have another evening like this sometime?”

I could hardly believe what I was hearing.

“Like this?” I asked, sitting up and turning to face him. He cupped my cheek and brushed a thumb over the soft skin there. Before I knew it, he was leaning in to kiss me.

He had kissed me before, while riding high on the adrenaline of a successful burglary, but never so gently as now. I melted into his arms and reveled in the sigh that escaped him as he pulled back just far enough to look at me.

“Just like this,” he promised.

“Raffles, I truly can’t think of anything I’d like more.”


End file.
